


Nightlight

by TimeKeepsSticking



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeKeepsSticking/pseuds/TimeKeepsSticking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's dreaming again, of worlds long gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightlight

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: http://volatileboy.tumblr.com/post/49087003922/nightlight

“I’m dreaming again,” I announce to no one in particular. Perhaps I mutter it to the pictures on my walls; perhaps it’s directed to the forest that has engulfed this barren castle. I frown, swallowing the acidic complaints that form when i think of why the castle is so barren. This is a time for speeches, not angst. “They’re the same as before, however. The land with half of a name that’s loaded to its undeserving brim with toads.” Or were they frogs? I don’t remember, but I have a strong dislike for both. Something tied to them symbolically that deals out life. I shiver reproachfully. “The girl, at least, the being I imagine to be female, is still there, out in the sun as if it’s the only…well, light that belongs to her.” 

Another frown, this one due to a yellow shimmer that goes through the window and blinds me. What is that unbearable noise? I clamp my earmuffs on and rush to he window to see a large… What is that? A truck? 

“Mother!” I shriek, teenage anger boiling out of every orifice I have. “Why is that scoundrel you call a boyfriend here?” He obviously hears my dismay and waves. I glare with all of my being. 

I don’t like the Striders. No name to their own that they didn’t steal from some deserving family. I’m sure “Bro’s” family wept at the disgrace they raised and booted him out at a young age when they saw the malformed figure of his son. Teenage pregnancy is such a sin. It makes so many accidents, such as Dave and I. If only there was an accident-remover. Then most of humanity would be gone and the rest would be happy. 

Now, that’s not the only reason why I don’t like that terrible family. They’re too loud and they know how sensitive my ears have become from being alone for all those years, locked up in my metaphoric tower. They have horrifying tastes in everything, even down to the shoes they wear. It’s almost as if they try to look bad, for purposes I don’t quite grasp. Not that I understand anything they do. It’s all misleading and gross. Oh, if only everything was poetry sprayed across a wall for all to see. It’d be so easy to explain why I find everything in such distaste. Every curl of a word would show how terrible I find everything, how undeserving I believe everything to be of the good graces they so maliciously took from those who have nothing but sick, twisted sorrow. 

I wish poetry was more like life. The pitiful existence would be so much more bearable. 

I’m woken from my stupor with a loud bang. I whimper, pulling a blanket over my head. It hasn’t even been an hour and they’re being as loud as possible. I moan lowly as more bangs follow. Mother’s loud voice fills the house with an explosion of happiness. I push the earmuffs in closer. Oh, gods, she’s the worst. Dating this disgrace, sneaking around my back to let him destroy my life. I don’t understand why she demands that they live here. She can move out and live with them while I pout for all eternity. That sounds lovely. Someone else can deal with her self-destructive habits. That’d would be a massive relief from my duties. I would weep with self-satisfaction.

My door opens slightly as the noises stop. I hear Mother whisper my name, slurring the only syllable in “Rose.” It’s a miracle she can even speak.

I whimper from the bed, tears threatening to leak out at any moment. I’m so weak and pathetic. It’s just noise, Rose. I don’t understand how you manage to muddle with pain because of it. It is a weary catalyst, though. It has been since day one.

“Rose, Davey’s going to stay with you until-hic-his room is fiiiixed!” she squeals. There’s a soft hello from the younger Strider and nothing more. He just steps in and Mother closes the door.

I sneak a look at him, vision blurry, to see him gaping at my room. Not that it’s really gaping, but all emotions are the same to the Striders from what I’ve seen. It’s not like the words have to be as boring as the user of said emotions. No, no, I think as I manage to weakly push myself up, he is gaping. I follow the direction of his shades to see the picture of the fairy. Oh, is that all? I honestly thought he’d have a better time looking at a Tony Hawk poster I “ironically” hung up for him if he ever had to stay the night. (Though staying the night is now staying until Broderick manages to see how fucked up Mother is.)

“It’s just a fairy,” I mumble weakly. He shakes his head and leaves, leaving the door ajar. I can hear faint music and the sound of glasses. A sigh escapes my lips. Still a freak in my own house surrounded by people I hate. Maybe this light should just burn out and crumble into nothing. Giving up is such a desirable fad.

Well, after one more trip to see the girl in green. Just one more. 

——

This is absolutely ridiculous. I sit on my bed, pondering ways to throw him out of the window without making a sound. David, I mean. He, dear gods, snores. It’s astounding how little he can leave my own. He pushed my clutter out of the way so he could lay down and snore. I doubt I’ll ever sleep tonight. 

And that leaves the girl alone. She can’t be on her own. She says she was alone for a very long time with only herself for company, and she turned on everyone. It’s why she’s so alone right now. She doesn’t have anyone to turn on this time. I fear for her own safety.

Dave turns over, landing his face in a scarf. He sneezes, rolling the other way. I giggle a bit when he lands face first in a stack of books. At least I’ll have entertainment if his snoring denies me slumber. 

I yawn, pulling my earmuffs back on. If I have a nightmare, they won’t protect me from much. The whispers from the old gods are louder than anything I have ever heard, including Dave’s snores. Diving under the covers is no fun but I do it anyway, hoping to sleep quickly. 

It’s hours before I can even close my eyes. The darkness is too overwhelming, but that’s how I like it. It keeps me on edge. I still don’t dream, instead listening to the elevator music that drones on for those few insomniacs that have earned the privilege of such. At least an hour after the music peters out, I see the first rays of sun through the trees. I frown, seeing Dave stir. 

Perhaps tomorrow I’ll see the girl. (Or is it today?) Perhaps she’ll still be there.


End file.
